Two to Tango
by Lailara
Summary: Crossover with Nero Wolfe - When a lounge singer is murdered, Nero Wolfe is on the case, but how will the eccentric genius pick his way through this case?


Title: Two to Tango  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: PG  
Fandoms: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Nero Wolfe  
Distribution: List archives; my usual haunts; anyone else, just ask.  
Spoilers: None  
Pairings: Willow/Spike, Archie/Angel, Buffy/Wesley, Giles/Tara  
Author's notes: AU - Crossover - The muses wouldn't let me rest. - I don't ever focus on one particular pairing in the storyline; they're backdrops to the main plot.  
Summary: When a lounge singer is murdered, Nero Wolfe is on the case, but how will the eccentric genius pick his way through this case?  
Disclaimer: Nero Wolfe, Archie Goodwin, and all associated characters are property of the Rex Stout estate and do not belong to me. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters are property of the illustrious Joss Whedon, and bah, do not belong to me, either. I am making no money off of this work, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
When business gets slow, that's how I know something monumental is coming. This was no exception. A bright, deceptively sunny Wednesday afternoon and all I had to be doing was opening the mail, sorting said mail, and stacking the same mail on Wolfe's desk. After the mail tasks, what was I to do except clean my gun. No, that had been done two days before.   
Read the paper, maybe. No, taken care of during breakfast. The only thing of note was an already solved case at a new club, therefore it was of no interest to me.  
  
The walls of the old Brownstone seemed to be getting closer and I supposed it was time for some air. With my coat and fedora checked in place, I opened the door to the face of a young girl. Her eyes were wide and puffy, as though she'd been crying in the not too distant past. Those eyes were no doubt enchanting, if I were the sort of man to believe in enchantments; their brilliant green shone through the tears as she hurried to wipe them with her handkerchief. Her face was intellegent and I could see that there was no fooling this one.  
  
She sniffled and asked, "Does Mr. Nero Wolfe live here?" She looked up at me hopefully, a red curl falling from its place behind her ear.  
  
"Yeah, but he's up and unavailable at the moment." I took a second to check my watch. 3:40. "He should be down in twenty minutes if you'd like to wait." She nodded and stepped in. Well, no walk for me today. Just as well; there was something about this girl that I just couldn't put my finger on.  
  
I took her coat and hat, placing them on the rack, and led her into the office. She promptly picked the red leather chair, for which I was glad, because I'm not sure I would have had the heart to move her.  
  
She glanced around the office, her eyes taking in everything from the books to the globe, Wolfe's desk to my typewriter, and she didn't seem the least bit interested in any of it. I didn't even know her name yet, but I had a feeling that she was going to be one of the more interesting characters to ever take part in the charades that typically take place around here.  
  
Finally, when she was finished surveying her surroundings, she turned to me. "I'd like to go ahead and talk to you for a few minutes, Mr. Goodwin."  
  
I nodded and took a seat in the chair next to my desk. "Well, you've already got one up on me. You obviously know my name, so how about we start there?"  
  
"Willa. Willa Rose. Actually, it's Willow Rosenberg; Willa Rose is a stage name. With the discomfort of the war, people tend to shy away when they see a Jewish name on the marquee. Have you heard of the Council Club?"  
  
Who hasn't? The hottest new night spot on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Run by a Brit with impeccable taste in women. "Yeah, I've heard of it. Never been in, though."  
  
"You should come by some night. I'm a singer there." She paused, glancing around the room again. "When did you say Mr. Wolfe would be available?"  
  
I checked my watch again. 4:00 on the dot. "He should be here any moment," I said, allowing the corners of my mouth to tug into a smile. She graciously returned the gesture and nodded slowly. Leaning back into the comfort of the chair, I could see her closing her eyes and taking deep breaths.  
  
I took the few moments to gather my thoughts, trying to recall where I'd read about the Council Club recently. As Wolfe walked into the room, I remembered. The solved case from the paper this morning.  
  
Willow stood as Wolfe walked around to his chair, surveying her with an interest that I haven't seen in years. His lips quirked up slightly, then put themselves back down in a manner that could have been construed as a smirk, if I didn't know better. He was annoyed, and for two reasons. He hadn't been told about a visitor, and he certainly hadn't been told that the visitor was a woman. He wouldn't mention it and neither would I.  
  
"May I help you, Miss...?" he began.  
  
"Willow Rosenberg. I'm a singer at the Council Club. I need your help, Mr. Wolfe. A friend of mine was killed several days ago, and the police are being absolutely no help. They've got it all wrong, and they've got the wrong man in custody. Xander didn't do it; he loved her." Her voice rose at the end of her explaination, giving away her emotions toward the case.  
  
"What is this woman's name? The one that was killed."  
  
"Anyanka Emerson. We've been working together for a few years, even before the club opened, and we both just kinda landed there. The night she was killed, we had just finished up a set, and I was heading out to spend the evening with my cousin, her husband and my boyfriend, when I heard a scream coming from her dressing room."  
  
"And why do you doubt that this man - Xander? - could have murdered her?"  
  
"Alexander Harris is my closest friend. We've known each other since we were children. I know he's not capable of murder, and besides, he couldn't have hurt Anya. They were engaged. He loved her."  
  
"Lovers murder each other all the time, Miss Rosenberg; it's certainly not uncommon." Wolfe pursed his lips forward a little, the strain on his temper and patience showing.  
  
"Xander would have had to come from the direction of the dressing room. He didn't. He came from behind me when he heard Anya's scream."  
  
The look in Wolfe's eyes could have been seen as an uninterested one, but again, I knew better. She'd picked up on a very good clue, and he was impressed. "Very well, Miss Rosenberg, I will investigate this case. I have one request to make of you, however."  
  
"Name it. Money, anything; it's yours."  
  
"The discussion of payment will be saved for another time, but we will reach that time soon enough. No, the request is this: do not speak to any police officer about what you have said about Mr. Harris' appearance on the scene. It is no matter if you have already given your statement, but please, do not repeat it."  
  
Willow's eyes narrowed on him, and she turned a quizzical glance on me. I nodded and she mimicked the movement in Wolfe's direction. "Very well, Mr. Wolfe. As for the subject of your payment, my employer, Mr. Rupert Giles will be more than happy to cover the fees of the investigation."  
  
*****  
  
tbc...  
So...what do you think? 


End file.
